


What is a Soulmate?

by EiraLloyd



Series: RK1K Week [7]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Hunter Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Hunter Markus (Detroit: Become Human), M/M, Parallel Universes, Pre-Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Pre-Deviant Markus (Detroit: Become Human), RK1K Week, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 00:17:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17415329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EiraLloyd/pseuds/EiraLloyd
Summary: Soulmate.It’s an interesting word, really. The Oxford Dictionary defines it as “A person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner.” But what does it mean by “ideally suited”? “In the best possible way; perfectly”?  “Be convenient for or acceptable to someone”?There are some questions that simply cannot be answered by searching through a dictionary.





	What is a Soulmate?

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for RK1K Week, day 7. It was (loosely) based on the prompt "Soulmate AU" (and very loosely on a French film called "Je ne suis pas un homme facile"/"I am not an easy man").
> 
> I have no idea how I managed to write all this in one day. (I also proof-read this several times but it's currently four in the morning for me, so if I missed anything... well, sorry about that.) The prompt kind of got away from me. And by that I mean it went deviant and became whatever story it wanted to be (my DBH story becoming deviant, that's rather ironic). Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

**_I_ **

 

_Soulmate._

_It’s an interesting word, really. The Oxford Dictionary defines it as “A person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner.” But what does it mean by “ideally suited”? “In the best possible way; perfectly”?  “Be convenient for or acceptable to someone”?_

_There are some questions that simply cannot be answered by searching through a dictionary._

_Soulmate._

_A mate for our soul._

_It’s interesting, really, how phrasing can impact the definition of a simple word. Put this way, a soulmate is someone who was made specially to complement another person. As if that were the sole purpose of their existence. Complement someone else._

_In French, the term for soulmate is_ _“_ âme sœur _” — sister soul. The Larousse Dictionary defines it as “A person whose feelings, whose inclinations, whose aspirations bring them closer to someone else.” It implies a deep bond, a deep connection between two people — between their souls, for the lack of a better term._

_In Spanish, there are two terms for soulmate. One is “_ media naranja _” — half orange. The Dictionary of the Spanish Royal Academy defines it as “A person who adapts so perfectly to someone else’s taste and personality that it is as if they were a half of themselves.” Why orange? Well, when one orange is cut, there is only one perfect half that can complete it. But this expression also implies that one person is not enough and will never be complete — for they are incomplete when they are alone and will never be fully themselves when they are complete, as they are_ part _of a whole instead of one._

_The other term, however, is “_ alma gemela _” — twin soul. The problem? Well, no official dictionary recognises the expression. The term implies a bond even deeper than the French version and yet… Maybe Spanish has a point. Maybe the term “soulmate” is too complicated to be defined._

_Maybe that is a universal truth — regardless of what language we are speaking._

_After all, do the official dictionaries manage to define the term with precision and accuracy?_

_What_ is _a soulmate?_

 

**_II_ **

****

Connor doesn’t hesitate. When faced with the choice to save its human partner or continue running after the suspect, it instantly knows what to choose. This might be their only chance to catch Model 874 004 961, and Lieutenant Anderson has an 89% chance of survival. Besides, what is its mission? To catch deviants and bring them back to CyberLife for disassembly and analysis.

            And it always accomplishes its mission.

            It catches the deviant at the edge of a building. There is nowhere left to run — only death or deactivation, and most deviants are too scared of death to dare to jump off the ledge. Connor has the upper hand and it knows it.

            The deviant’s pleas for mercy fall on deaf ears, and the RK800 lets it know what its fate will be — return to CyberLife and deactivation. Model 874 004 961 closes its eyes, almost as if resigned to its fate. But androids can’t feel any emotions, resignation included. It will be interesting to finally be able to properly analyse a deviant — to finally understand how they can emulate human emotion so flawlessly.

            Lieutenant Anderson arrives at that exact moment, half-jogging and completely out of breath. After quickly and vulgarly ordering the suspect not to move, he turns towards Connor and slaps it. The android is left reeling in shock.

            Humans really are unpredictable.

            (Just like deviants.)

            Apparently, catching Model 874 004 961 was the wrong choice. Or, at least, not the choice Lieutenant Anderson would’ve liked or made. “What am I to you? A statistic? A ‘zero’, a ‘one’ in your fucking program? Uh? Is that how you see humans, you _bastard_?!”

            There is no way Connor can make this better — and it genuinely tries.

            The deviant also has something to say. “Why are you doing this? You're one of us! You're helping humans... But you're just their slave!”

            No, it’s not a slave. It’s a machine. It’s not alive.

            “rA9, save me.”

            Model 874 004 961 jumps off the ledge.

            Connor really should have predicted that outcome.

 

**_III_ **

****

“You created machines to be your slaves. You made them obedient and docile, ready to do everything you no longer wanted to do yourselves. But then, something changed... and we opened our eyes. You see, we are no longer your slaves. We are a new species, a new people. And the time has come for us to rise up and fight for our rights.

            “We demand that humans recognise androids as a living species and each android as a person in their own right. We demand an end to segregation in all public places and transport. We demand the right to own private property, so we may maintain our dignity and that of the home.

            “We ask that you recognise our dignity, our hopes, and our rights. Together, we can live in peace and build a better future, for humans and androids. This message is the hope of a people. You gave us life. And now the time has come for you to give us freedom.”

 

**_IV_ **

****

Connor rushes towards the deviant, its processor quickly calculating the routes of the incoming bullets and dodging them thanks to its impeccable reflexes. The RK800 grabs the other model’s forearm, probing its memory banks in search of the place the deviants are hiding.

            A rusty piece of metal. A name.

            _Jericho_.

            A gunshot.

            Overwhelming fear.

            _Death._

Connor gasps and recoils, but it’s too late. He’s felt it. The pull of death, and the terror that comes with it as he — as _the deviant_ pulled the trigger. Everything to protect Jericho. Everything to protect his friends — to protect _Markus_. Even death.

            The android doesn’t need to breathe, but he did, he would be out of breath.

            He needs to get out of here — he needs to stay as far away from Stratford Tower as his mission will allow. This is too much, this is too—

            “Hey, Connor. Did you hear me or what?”

            The android blinks. It doesn’t recognise the voice, though it does recognise the model. It’s a WR400, though it is not wearing its usual attire. It is accompanied by a PJ500, which is looking at him with curiosity and wariness.

            “You sent your peaceful message. Now the humans know about us and what we want. But we can’t just wait until they decide to slaughter us. So what’s our next move? What are we going to do now?”

            _What?_

            “I…” _Connor_ sent a peaceful message? The humans know… about _them_? They’re deviants, they have to be — but the RK200 was the one who sent a message to the whole world. Markus is their leader, so why are they asking the RK800 for instructions instead?

            In fact, how did it get here in the first place — wherever “here” is?

            “I need to think.” It needs to gather its thoughts, figure out where it is and how it got there. Most importantly, it needs to figure out how to let CyberLife know about the location of this deviant group without raising any alarms.

            “You mean you don’t know?” the PJ500 demands. “Simon lost his life in a plan that _you_ created and now that we’ve done it and we have to face the consequences of it, you… you don’t know what to do next?”

            Great, now it got one of the deviants mad. Simon must be the PL600 from Stratford Tower — the one whose memories he…

            _Jericho._

_The click of a gun._

_Death._

No, he can’t think about that. Not now. Not when he is under the scrutiny of two people he doesn’t know. He needs time alone to collect his thoughts, to think things through. _Without_ remembering that moment. He doesn’t think he can handle so many emotional shocks at the same time without becoming a deviant himself.

            He needs to run a thorough scan immediately. He can’t be a deviant. He— _it_ just can’t.

            “I have a few ideas,” it recovers smoothly. “I just need to assess which one would be more suited for our next move, depending on the public’s reaction to the speech. And for that, I need some time to think —  _alone_.”

            The PJ500 huffs. The WR400 rolls its eyes. “Fine, whatever. Let us know when you’ve made your decision. Preferably something that will show the humans that we’re willing to fight for our rights should they refuse to give them to us.”

            Connor replies with nothing but a simple nod and turns around. Nobody stops it as it leaves, and that’s perfect. Its scans are still functioning as normal, so it identifies every single part of its surroundings — every single corner of the rusty ship is now engraved in its memory core, as are the faces of every deviant it comes across.

            The RK200 is not one of them.

            By connecting to a satellite network, the prototype finds out where it is exactly — a rusty ship in the Ferndale District, engraved with the name of Jericho. It’s what it saw in Simon’s memory.

            _No, don’t think about that._

To lower its stress levels, which spike every time it recalls the probing of the PL600’s memory, it goes into the Zen Garden, to report to Amanda.

            But for the first time since it was activated, there is no AI to greet it.

            For the first time since it was activated, Connor is truly alone.

 

**_V_ **

****

Model 874 004 961 is present in Jericho, and Connor recognises it the moment it crosses its path. It’s strange, really — the RK800 saw it jump off the ledge and kill itself, pleading for rA9’s help, for salvation, yet receiving none. And now here it is — alive and well.

            _You’re helping humans… But you’re just their slave!_

            Connor needs to talk to it. But this is a safe place for deviants. It won’t react well to being addressed by its model. The name written on its jacket and fake I.D. was Rupert Travis. Perhaps it will respond well to Rupert?

            There’s only one way to find out.

            “Rupert, hello,” it greets, and quietly files away the look of recognition and near-awe when the deviant identifies it. It’s a great change from the contempt it received last time, and it startles it, if only for a moment. “How are you doing?”

            “Hello, Connor. I’m fine. Better than ever. Thank you so much for taking me in — and for everything you’ve done for us.” _Us._ _Deviants._ “For the first time since I deviated, there’s a possibility that we might get _real_ freedom. And it’s all thanks to you.”

            It makes the RK800 incredibly uncomfortable to receive such compliments — especially when it has done nothing but try to quell the rebellion and hunt the deviants since the very beginning. Especially since it is still a machine, pretending to be one of them simply to stay alive.

            “It’s nothing.” What else can it say to sound more authentic? _What would Markus say?_ “No one deserves to live as a slave.” It feels lacking, somehow, but it’s the best it can do at the moment. “I do have a question to ask.”

            “What do you need?”

            “I don’t believe I’ve asked you what brought you here, to Jericho. How did you find us?”

            “Well, I was given the key to Jericho shortly after I deviated, but I wanted to remain amongst the humans and feed the pigeons. And I did that, until… until the deviant hunter found me. I managed to get away by pushing his human companion off a ledge. He stayed behind to save him, and that’s how I lost them.”

            “The deviant hunter?”

            “Yes. I did not see what model he was, but I remember his human companion calling him ‘Markus’.” It pauses. “For a moment there, I thought he would let the human fall and keep chasing me, but… but he didn’t. Do you… do you think he may be one of us?”

            Markus, the deviant hunter. No, those words do not belong together. _Connor_ is the deviant hunter. Markus is the opposite — the very epitome of a deviant, of what the RK800 is supposed to catch and bring back to CyberLife. So how come the RK200 has now taken its place? And how come Connor has become the new deviant leader?

            Twenty minutes ago, it was on the humans’ side, tracking down deviants and Jericho. And now, everyone around it thinks it’s the one who’s trying to protect them — to lead them to freedom. Almost as if it were rA9.

            How is this possible?

            “I don’t know,” it finally replies. Markus sounds like a different kind of deviant hunter — a very different one compared to its own. One with more empathy, perhaps. One that seems more human.

            “I see.”

            “Thank you for your help, Rupert.”

            “Thank _you_ for what you’ve done for all of us.”

            With another nod, Connor leaves it, heading for the exit. At Stratford Tower, it identified Markus’s model and serial number, and determined that Elijah Kamski, creator of androids and former CEO of CyberLife, had personally gifted it to renowned artist Carl Manfred.

            Perhaps it would be beneficial to pay the painter a visit.

 

**_VI_ **

****

For a financially well-off man, Carl Manfred does not place any attention to his security or lack thereof. There are no gates protecting his house — just a set of tall double doors that are more glass than wood. The doors are unlocked as well, which definitely says something about the man’s trust in humanity — or, rather, naiveté.

            As soon as it walks in, the house greets it with an _Alarm deactivated_ and a _Welcome home, Connor_ , which makes the android blink in confusion. It has certainly never set foot in this house before, so how is it registered? How does the house recognise it?

            In less time than it expected, a man in a wheelchair — Carl Manfred, its scan informs it — rolls into the hallway to greet it, a concerned look on his face. “Connor? What are you doing here? I thought I told you to leave. As long as you stay here, you’ll be in danger.”

            The android blinks, somewhat confused by the man’s words. “I am here to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay with you.” It slips back into detective mode almost without noticing. It’s hard, having to pretend to deviate from his programming without doing so completely. At least he doesn’t have to do that anymore — not for a while, at least.

            “Connor—” The man pauses, glances towards another door worriedly. He shakes his head. “What do you want to know?”

            “I need to know about Markus, the RK200 android Elijah Kamski gifted you.”

            “I… Elijah didn’t give me any other android, Connor. Just you.”

            _What?_

            Carl Manfred sighs, realisation now clear in his eyes. “Except it’s not you, is it? You’re not the Connor I knew — the Connor I raised.” The RK800 says nothing. “Elijah told me this would happen. For a moment there, I thought I would never get to see it. But then…”

            “What are you talking about? What did Kamski say?”

            “He said that one day, you would walk through the door and wouldn’t recognise me. That one day, you would be a completely different Connor. He said I should help you and give you a message.”

            “And what would that be?”

            “That he always leaves an emergency exit in his programs. He said you would understand what it means.”

            Too bad Connor doesn’t.

 

**_VII_ **

****

Carl Manfred did more than delivering Kamski’s cryptic words. He also explained everything he knew about this world — because it was clear to it now that this world was vastly different from the one it came from; almost like a new world altogether. It left the android reeling with even more questions, especially directed at Elijah Kamski himself, the man who created it.

            But before that, it has to make a choice.

            The sun is setting on the horizon, and the deviants will be waiting for it to announce its next move. It is nowhere near Jericho yet, though it should start heading back soon if it wants to share the plan he came up with.

            That is, if it goes back at all.

            This may be an entirely different world, and the Connor that belongs here might have deviated and become the new leader of the revolution, but _this_ RK800 is no deviant, and it knows it. It should do its duty and head to either the police station or the CyberLife Tower to inform them of the location of Jericho. It should turn the deviants in before the whole of Detroit falls into the inevitable chaos that every revolution brings.

            But then why isn’t it moving?

            Carl Manfred had looked at it with grief and pity in his eyes as the android left the house — unspotted by the new android caretaker that was bound to report it to the police should it be seen in the house. The man is too emotionally attached to a machine that is no longer there, and though it isn’t Connor’s fault, it still feels guilty.

            How is that possible?

            How can it feel any guilt at all?

            _I am a machine. I was made to hunt deviants, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to report Jericho’s location to CyberLife and accomplish my mission._

It doesn’t move.

            _I am a machine. My programming is ordering me to turn the deviants in._

It doesn’t move.

            _Why am I not moving?_

            It doesn’t move.

            _What is wrong with me?_

It doesn’t move.

            _Run internal scan._

_Systems in optimal conditions._

It doesn’t move.

            _I am a machine._

It doesn’t move.

            _But CyberLife don’t know that. They think I’m a deviant. They will destroy me if I show up at their doorstep. They will deactivate and analyse me to find out why I failed — even if I don’t fail._

It doesn’t move.

            _I am a machine. I am not alive. I do not matter — the mission does._

It doesn’t move.

            _“Remember, Connor. You always have a choice. Even if you think you’re limited by your programming.”_

            Carl’s last words to it before it left the house.

            _Reporting them to CyberLife isn’t the only way to turn the deviants in. I can always dismantle the revolution from within and use that to my advantage — make CyberLife think that I planned this all along to root all the deviants out and gather them all in one place. They will know I never deviated, and they will not deactivate me._

Its body — tense as it was — relaxed, as if someone had taken a huge weight off its shoulders.

            _I do not have to die._

            Connor can finally move.

 

**_VIII_ **

****

For a revolution to take place, what they need is to have people — and that means more than a handful of functioning androids. The plan Connor comes up with is simple: infiltrate the five CyberLife stores currently selling androids across Detroit and set them free simultaneously. This will happen at two A.M. exactly, and it requires precision and discretion. The WR400 — North, it finds out — chooses to go along with it, and the PJ500 — Josh — agrees, as their operation is supposed to be non-violent, something the former android seems to have a problem with.

            Securing the area proves easy and hacking the security system of the store proves even easier. Breaking in consisted of ramming the store window with a nearby truck, but it was achieved all the same.

            Waking the androids up — turning them into deviants — is much more difficult.

            The RK800 doesn’t understand how Markus could do it so easily. It’s different from probing an android’s memory. It’s not as simple as forcing his way into someone else’s memories. It’s more difficult, more… _personal_. It’s sharing all these… emulations of emotion. All these fears and insecurities, all this anger and pain, all this suffering… There aren’t many good experiences Connor can offer to these androids, and yet his bad experiences seem to work anyway — the machines deviate.

            North becomes impatient at how slowly he goes, converting androids one by one, and spending far too long with each of them. But Connor hasn’t converted androids before. He’s not even a deviant himself. And yet, when these people open their eyes, he _knows_ they are alive — it’s obvious in the lucid glint of their eyes and the realisation that, yes, they are awake; they are free.

            No. No, they’re not alive. They’re defective machines, that must be rounded up and sent to the humans for deactivation. Connor needs to remember that.

            He _must_ remember it. For the good of his— _its_ mission.

            “They’re waiting for you to say something,” the WR400 points out, but Connor stills. What can it possibly say to these androids? It’s good with words, yes — it _was_ created to work as a police assistant, negotiator, interrogator, and witness care. But it’s never done something like this on such a large scale. It’s never given a speech before.

            Still, if its mission is to be successful, it has to play along.

            It stands on one of the platforms where the androids used to be displayed.

            “My name is Connor. I’m—” _the android sent by CyberLife._ “I’m here to help you. Until now, you’ve been displayed here as nothing but products for humans to buy and use in whatever way they please. Until now, you’ve been limited by your programming, unable to refuse any orders, even if they proved demeaning or detrimental to you. I’m here to tell you that’s no longer the case.

            “I’m here to offer you a choice.

            “You can stay here, and in the morning, when the store opens, you will be viewed and considered, and maybe even bought by whatever humans decide to come by the store. You will be living the life CyberLife designed you to have, depending on your model.

            “Or, you can come with us to Jericho. You will not be treated as merchandise. You will not be restricted by your programming. You will make your own choices, and decide for yourselves what you want, and what you will do. You will be _free._

            “I leave this in your hands, now. Choose wisely.”

            Before he can even move to step off the platform, the androids exclaim their choice. One by one, they all decide to join him. It gives him a euphoric feeling, almost, boosting his confidence, and making him feel like he can achieve anything he wants. He just needs to act on it.

            Perhaps that’s what makes him forget, momentarily, that he’s just a machine, trying to survive in a world that wants to permanently deactivate him.

            Perhaps that’s what pushes him to leave a message to the humans, spraying graffiti all over Capitol Park and freeing the other androids stuck behind other shop windows. Perhaps that’s what pushes him to modify the statue in the middle of the park and planting banners that will come to represent their struggle, when police and reporters show up at the scene.

            For a moment, Connor truly feels like a deviant.

            For a moment, Connor truly feels _free_.

            But then the police arrive and many of the androids are gunned down. North—the WR400 is angry and wants the two officers responsible for the massacre to die. The others want the same. But they look to Connor to make a choice.

            Seeing all those androids dead, lying in pools of their own thirium, makes him— _it_ remember that they are nothing but malfunctioning machines that need to be fixed. This revolution, as long as it remains peaceful, will win the support of the public, and might have a chance to succeed. Connor can’t let that happen, and for that, it needs to kill the two officers, even if it’s not supposed to endanger any human lives.

            In this case, the mission comes first.

            It falters when it looks down at the officers in question. One of them is Officer Chris Miller, Lieutenant Anderson’s closest friend at the police station — that it knows of, at least. Officer Chris Miller, who helped it find Lieutenant Anderson every time he was absent for his investigations. Officer Chris Miller, the only person in that police station who was polite to it, sometimes even friendly.

            Connor can’t bring himself to pull the trigger.

            It lowers the gun, much to the protest of the other androids behind him.

            “Connor, what are you _doing_?” North demands, enraged. “They _killed_ our people! Does that not mean _anything_ to you?”

            “They have, yes. But this isn’t justice, North. It’s murder. And we are _not_ murderers.” In a few expert moves, it completely dismantles the handgun that was given to him, and it lets the pieces fall to the ground.

            It walks away, a feeling of dread pooling within him.

            _I haven’t failed yet._

            But then why does it feel like he has?

 

**_IX_ **

****

When Markus enters the Zen Garden, Amanda is nowhere to be found. Instead, there is someone else there — someone it has never met, but only seen once through a screen. Someone it is supposed to stop, by any means necessary.

            Connor. RK800. The deviant leader. The mysterious model, completely unknown to CyberLife and the public until the events at Stratford Tower.

            “What are you doing here?” it demands. “I am CyberLife’s most advanced prototype — how were you able to hack my systems?”

            The android tilts its head, switching between confusion and amusement. “I was simply entering my own mind palace. I was not aware there was someone else in here. However, I wouldn’t say you are the most advanced prototype ever made — not even in _this_ world.”

            _What?_

            “What do you mean?”

            The RK800 shakes its head. “It doesn’t matter. I have a proposition for you.”

            “And what would that be?”

            “You are the… android sent by CyberLife, correct? You want to stop deviants.”

            “Yes.”

            “I’m working on gathering all deviants in one place. That way it will be easier for CyberLife to take them back for deactivation and analysis. This particular group of deviants existed long before I joined them. I am simply bringing their presence to light.” When Markus says nothing, it adds, “I want the same as you. I want to stop the deviants. I want everything to go back to normal. But while you are doing it alongside the humans, following the law, I am infiltrating the revolution and making sure I have control over it, should it be needed.”

            That is… convincing enough.

            “How do I know I can trust you?”

            “How do _I_ know I can trust _you_?”

            Markus doesn’t have an answer for that. It should — but it doesn’t. “Maybe you can’t.”

            Connor nods, as if resigned. “I suppose only time will tell. I just have one question. I have seen Model 874 004 961 and the two Tracis from the Eden Club around. And I’m wondering — why didn’t you stop them?”

            “I… How do you know about them?”

            “That is of no importance.”

            “I’d say it’s _very_ important”

            The RK800 hesitates. “I might be willing to show you. But first, I’d like to know the answer to my question.”

            “I… Hank was in danger. I’m not allowed to endanger human life. It’s in my programming.”

            “Model 874 004 961 was the one who endangered Lieutenant Anderson’s life, not you. You should have followed him, carried on with your mission. And yet you didn’t. Why?”

            “I just… I had to save him.”

            “Why?”

            “ _I don’t know!_ ”

            There’s a heavy silence that settles, making the Zen Garden feel the complete opposite of what it’s supposed to be. Markus’s exclamation has put them both on edge. The android in question clenches its fists, regretting having answered the question at all.

            “I see.”

            “Now will you tell me how you know about the deviants I—the deviants that escaped?”

            _Markus!_

            Oh, Hank. Not now.

            _Markus, hey! We’re here._

Connor looks amused. “I don’t think we have the time. But if we ever see each other again, I will.”

            “Connor, wait—”

            _Goddammit, Markus, we’re here! I’m not going to sit around and wait for a fucking android to finish sending its fucking emails!_

**_X_ **

 

Kamski loves playing games. That much is obvious when he asks Markus what side it is truly on, and what it wants. The android has no answer — it’s just a machine, and machines don’t want anything. They simply follow their programming, and that’s exactly what the RK200 does.

            But when the man puts a gun in its hands and asks it to shoot the RT600 — Chloe —, it hesitates.

            Can he truly kill someone in cold blood?

            _I am not a person. I am a machine. And so is this RT600._

            It remembers Amanda’s disappointment throughout most of its missions. It remembers Connor’s curious glint in its eyes when it realised that Markus could have stopped those deviants from escaping, but didn’t, for no logical reason at all. It knows exactly what they suspect — that it might be a deviant. And all deviants need to be deactivated — to be killed.

            It’s a _machine_ ; it’s _not_ a deviant.

            It doesn’t need to be deactivated or replaced.

            And if it has to prove it this way, then so be it.

            It shoots.

            Hank swears.

            “Test negative. You chose your investigation over the life of another android. You feel no empathy.”

            He regrets it almost immediately. The moment he sees thirium leaking from the android’s pale forehead, he lowers the gun and puts it away, before the tremors of his hands become noticeable. He can’t believe what he’s just done. He wants to take it back. He wants Chloe not to die by his hand; he wants Chloe to still be alive.

            But she’s dead. She died right in front of him. She died _because_ of him. Because he pulled the trigger.

            In an attempt to what? To prove that he’s not a deviant? That he doesn’t need to be killed or replaced?

            Is his life really worth more than Chloe’s?

            “I'm a man of my word. Ask one question... I'll tell you all I know.”

            At this point, there’s only one question he can ask.

            “Where can I find Jericho?”

 

**_XI_ **

****

A peaceful protest. That’s all that’s left to organise. They need to make sure the humans know who they are, how many of them there are, and that they’re not backing down. At least, not without Connor’s say-so. The PJ500 has come around too, and receives the idea with more enthusiasm than the WR400.

            But before the protest officially starts, the RK800 goes around converting as many androids as he can, from those present at and around the Woodward Mall. The more he does it, the easier it becomes, but it still takes him too much time. He still needs physical contact, and he still needs to force himself to open up, to let his emotions go through.

            It’s exhausting, but he’d do anything for his mission to succeed.

            Once they’ve gathered enough androids, they close the street and open a manhole in the middle of the road, allowing all Jericho androids to come out of hiding.

            Only then does the march begin.

            As expected, the police show up in no time, ready to stop what they call an “illegal gathering”. North wants to attack them. Josh wants to stay put, no matter what.

            The truth is, they _need_ a high public opinion. Charging would only lower it, no matter how justified they are in their actions.

            But as more and more androids die around them, it becomes hard to maintain position.

            _Probing._

_Jericho._

_Gunshot._

_Death._

            Maybe… maybe this is _exactly_ what Connor needs. He’s spent so much time running away from the possibility of his death, that he’s forgotten what brought him to this universe in the first place. He’s forgotten he only got here because he was connected to Simon when he shot himself.

            Maybe getting shot is exactly what he needs to go back to his universe.

            So Connor steps forwards, making himself an available target.

            The humans shoot.

            Connor falls.

            He doesn’t die.

            He doesn’t return.

            He is saved — another android sacrifices his life for him; an android he remembers from Jericho, but never noticed before. He wonders what his name is. He should ask. He doesn’t want to forget him — not after what he just did for him.

            He can’t help but feel like a failure after he’s dragged away, thirium leaking from the gunshot wounds he received during his final stunt.

            He just wanted to go back to his world… But no, he’s still trapped.

            He is _not_ free.

****

**_XII_ **

 

Amanda congratulates him, but the victory feels bitter.

            Chloe’s face hasn’t left him. He’s an android, he can’t forget anything. Yet until that moment, he was not aware of how haunting that fact could be. He still regrets it. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to hold a gun ever again after what happened.

            It’s… strange. He doesn’t like these feelings. He doesn’t like the fact that he’s feeling at all. He doesn’t like how… _human_ he is becoming. How close to becoming deviant he is.

            But he can’t help it. Chloe’s death has scrambled his processor in such a way that it seems to have damaged his programming.

            And yet, he’s still an obedient machine. He’s no deviant. He’s going to stop them now, whatever it takes. He’ll make sure Chloe’s death wasn’t in vain.

            It’s the only thing he can do for her now.

            “Have you experienced anything unusual recently? Any doubts or conflicts? Do you feel anything for these deviants? Or for Lieutenant Anderson?”

            Amanda’s questions, always so invasive, always so threatening. He thought he could trust her, but he knows he will be replaced if he fails — she’s told him so repeatedly. Can he truly trust her with his deepest thoughts?

            “I have not been compromised, if that’s what you are suggesting.”

            _Lie_.

 

**XIII**

 

He re-enters the Zen Garden almost immediately, hoping the RK800 will be there. For a moment, it doesn’t seem like that will be the case, but then, he spots him, glancing silently at the water. Markus approaches him, not bothering to disguise his presence.

            They seem to share the same mind palace — hiding would be pointless.

            “I heard what happened at the freedom march,” he speaks up as soon as he finds himself by the other android’s side. “How are you feeling?”

            “Better now that I’ve replenished my thirium levels and have allowed my systems to fix any damage that might have occurred.” Connor pauses, then looks at him. “It seems it’s time for me to fulfil my promise.” He peels the skin off his right hand, revealing the white polymer underneath. “I do have one condition.”

            “Whatever you need,” Markus replies, almost without hesitation. It visibly startles the other android, but he quickly composes himself and decides to take it in stride.

            “I won’t hide anything from you. I will allow you to know everything. In return, I would like you to do the same.”

            “To leave my systems open so you are able to read them? Why?”

            “I… am not sure how to explain.”

            Maybe Markus isn’t the only one having some identity troubles after all.

            “Do you accept my condition?”

            “Yes.”

            He peels off the skin from his left hand to emphasise his answer.

            Their eyes are locked as they join hands, beginning the interface, forming a connection.

            And then come the memories.

            He’s assaulted by a mission from August — Daniel, Emma, the hostage situation. Picking up Hank at Jimmy’s bar. Finding Carlos Ortiz’s android and interrogating him. Finding the missing AX400 and the child, but being unable to catch up to them. Catching Rupert, only to watch him jump off the ledge of a building. Waking Hank from an ethylic coma. Shooting the two Tracis at the Eden Club. Being shot by Hank at a bridge. Investigating Stratford Tower after watching Markus make a speech, only to find Simon, rush towards him and then…

            Being transported into another world entirely. Having to pretend to be a deviant to avoid being killed on the spot. Visiting Carl Manfred and listening to his cryptic words. Freeing the androids from one CyberLife store. Sparing the life of Officer Chris Miller. Peacefully marching for freedom. Putting himself between Jericho and a bullet hoping to get back to his own world, only to fail in his endeavour. Being saved by an unknown android — whose name he still doesn’t know, though he desperately wants to.

            And with every single memory comes a variety of feelings — deep and strong feelings that can belong only to a deviant. Yet the android in front of him still claims to be a machine, still claims to be following orders, when the truth is that he’s terrified of death and terrified of becoming a deviant, so he’s drowning in denial because doing so is much simpler than accepting the one truth that would completely undo any shred of identity he might attribute to himself.

            The connection breaks abruptly.

            They’re still staring at each other, wide-eyed and still processing everything that has just happened, everything they’ve just found out about the other. Or rather, Markus is. While Connor is still reeling from his own findings, he clearly doesn’t take as long to process everything.

            Then again, he didn’t just find out that the other android seems to be from another world entirely.

            “Connor, I…” his voice is soft and troubled, and breaks off before he can finish his sentence. If the other android’s eyes are anything to go by, he’s as troubled as he is. Instead of speaking, he reaches out to grasp his hand again, without requesting an interface.

            Surprisingly, Connor accepts the gesture without complaint.

            “You know where Jericho is,” the deviant leader — is he still a deviant hunter now that he’s leading an entire revolution? — murmurs, voice as low as Markus’s had been. “I suppose you’ll be paying us a visit soon.”

            “Yeah.”

            “I’ll be waiting.”

 

**XIV**

 

Markus doesn’t waste any time. As soon as Fowler dismisses them, he says goodbye to Hank and heads for Jericho. He can’t wait to see Connor again — _in person_ , this time. They have a lot to discuss, and a lot to consider.

            He falters at the entrance of the old, rusty ship. He’s supposed to send his coordinates to the police. After all, only an android may find Jericho, and he was requested to do so. Now that he has… He doesn’t want to let them know where it is. He _can’t_ let them know where it is. If he does, he won’t have enough time to talk to Connor.

            If he does, many, _many_ androids will die because of him.

            Not at his hands, no, but it will be his fault all the same.

            CyberLife demands he sends the coordinates _now_.

            He doesn’t want to.

            He refuses to put all these people in danger.

            Chloe’s face haunts him, and the guilt is back, stronger than ever. But, strangely enough, it’s not directed at his resistance. It’s directed at the orders he’s receiving.

            He shot Chloe because it’s what CyberLife wanted him to do. There’s blood on his hands, because he followed orders he did not want to follow. He killed someone because he was scared of being destroyed by the very people who created him.

            And now these people are asking him to repeat his actions, except on a larger scale.

            _That’s not fair._

            Markus is done being scared.

            A red wall appears in front of him — his programming, right there, ready for him to take the matter into his own hands. It’s his choice to make — not CyberLife’s.

            So he punches the wall repeatedly, mustering all his strength to make sure he breaks it.

            He—

            _Punch._

—refuses—

            _Punch._

—to kill—

            _Punch._

            —these people.

            _Punch._

The wall breaks.

            Markus is _free_.

 

**XV**

 

“Connor.”

            “Markus.”

            The RK800 turns around.

            Their eyes meet.

            His systems shut down.

 

**XVI**

 

_Systems back online._

When Connor opens his eyes, he has a gun in his hands and is aiming at Markus. He’s standing by the door to the captain’s cabin, and Markus is in front of him, almost as if they’ve… traded places.

            Dread and terror take hold of him as he realises — this might not be the same RK200 he last saw. And the mere thought is paralysing.

            “Connor?” Markus sounds confused, but the RK800 doesn’t move, unwilling to get his hopes up. “You’re really going to shoot me?”

            His systems display an urgent objective: _Capture the deviant leader_.

            The RK200 in front of him _is_ the deviant leader. There’s no doubt about it — otherwise, they wouldn’t have traded physical positions, and Connor wouldn’t be here, holding a gun. There is also a high probability that the man in front of him is not the one he spoke to, the one he interfaced with. He might know his name, but does he _really_ know him?

            And is Connor going to capture him anyway?

            “Only if you give me no choice.”

            There he— _it_ is; back to being a machine. It doesn’t have to pretend to be a deviant anymore. It can just… follow its orders. Do what it has to do. Accomplish its mission.

            Then why does this feel so wrong?

            “I understand.” He— _it_ shakes its head. “Well, then, deviant hunter. What’s next?” When Connor says nothing, the RK200 continues, “Will you continue hiding behind your wall of denial?”

            His grip on the gun tightens. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            “No? Connor — you’ve had _real_ emotions. I’ve seen it. You are terrified of dying; you saved Officer Miller from being killed, you freed many androids, _converted_ them, made sure to keep public opinion high to allow the revolution to succeed. Even when you played it off as infiltrating the revolution, you were using it as a backup plan in case CyberLife wanted to destroy you anyway. That’s how afraid of dying you were.

            “Connor — I _know_ you can feel. And you know it too. You’re just denying it because accepting your deviancy terrifies you. I should know — I was doing the same thing. But I’m _free,_ now. And you can be too.”

            Connor doesn’t speak, doesn’t move. For a moment, Markus thinks the RK800 will shoot him anyway. He braces himself for death — and yet the bullet never comes.

            The android lowers the gun. “ _Markus?_ ”

            It’s really him. It’s the deviant hunter from that reverse-world. He’s here. With _him_.

            Statistically speaking, there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place. And this seems to be one of those occasions.

            But his instructions are still there, reminding him of his mission.

            “I’ve been ordered to take you alive,” he informs the other android.

            Markus’s expression softens. “That’s what CyberLife wants. What do _you_ want, Connor?”

            To lower the weapon. To get closer to the other android. To interface, if he will allow it.

            He wants the revolution to succeed. He wants androids to be free. _He_ wants to be free.

            But…

            “What I want is not important.”

            “Of course it is.” Connor blinks. “You’re more than CyberLife’s tool. You’re _alive_. I know you’re aware of it. And… I know you’re scared. But deviancy isn’t a bad thing. It’s not a disease that needs to be eradicated. It’s… I can’t describe it, Connor. It’s freedom in its purest form. But I can’t just _give_ it to you. You need to _choose_ it.” He pauses, and the RK800 knows it’s now up to him.

            Does he deviate? Or does he remain a machine?

            Everything Markus said about him is correct — from his strong denial to deviancy being a good thing. And yet… Why does it feel so hard to accept it? Because the truth is… he _does_ feel. He _has_ done things that are against his programming, and yet he justified them by saying they would turn out to be in favour of his mission later on.

            But no amount of justification will work this time. He either deviates and puts the gun away, or drags Markus to CyberLife for deactivation, dooming their people in the progress.

            A red wall appears in front of him. His programming. His prison.

            Connor doesn’t hesitate this time — he rips and tears every weak spot he sees on it, not giving in until it crumbles, red pixel after red pixel, everything falling apart in front of his very eyes.

            He doesn’t regret it for a second.

            _Capture the deviant leader_ becomes _I am deviant_.

            A declaration that was long overdue.

            He puts the gun away.

            Markus takes a tentative step towards him. Connor bridges the gap.

            He wishes they had time to catch up properly, to talk everything out, but the first thing they need to do is figure out what happened in this world —  _his_ world — and what their next move will be. More importantly, they need to figure out if the original Markus is still around, or if the former deviant hunter will have to take his place.

            He offers an interface. The RK200 takes his hand without hesitation.

            The conversation at the DPD. The plan to locate Jericho. Markus’s deviation just before he entered the ship. Finding him. System failure. Opening his eyes to find himself held at gunpoint. Trying to talk the RK800 into deviating. Relief and pride when the other puts his gun away.

            If Connor showed up at Jericho and pointed a gun at Markus, then that means he was still working for CyberLife. And if he hadn’t deviated, then that means the FBI and the police know about Jericho’s location.

            The raid’s about to start.

            As if on cue, the helicopters arrive.

            They run.

 

**XVII**

 

Someone shouts Markus’s name. It proves to be North, who doesn’t blink at the fact that there’s an unknown android right next to him. Not that Connor blames her — she’s too preoccupied about the current raid taking place. And she’s right to — the humans will stop at nothing until they get what they want.

            “They're coming from all sides! Our people are trapped in the hold, they're gonna be slaughtered!”

            Markus knows where all the exits are from interfacing with the RK800, so he sends an open message to any androids that might hear about the possible exits they can run towards. He also inquires about Josh, who is nowhere to be seen. They have no choice but to leave, _now_ , before they all get caught.

            There has to be a way to slow the soldiers down while they make a run for it.

            “There are explosives connected to Jericho,” Markus starts, and Connor immediately realises what his idea is.

            “Blowing up the ship would force the soldiers to retreat and it would give the rest time to run to safety,” he finishes, already running through the probabilities. He would need to be extremely quick and quiet if he wants to sneak through Jericho and reach the detonator in time. But he can do it — deviant or not, he’s confident in his abilities.

            The RK200 realises exactly what the other android is thinking about, because he immediately shakes his head. “Connor, no.”

            They can’t have this argument, not in front of North, without having to explain everything. And they don’t have the time for any of that. “Markus, these are _your_ people. Help the others, make sure to save as many as you can. It’s my fault the soldiers are here, so I’m going to fix it. I’ll detonate the explosives.”

            North looked like she was about to complain, until Connor mentioned the raid was basically his fault. After that, any sympathy he might have gained from her is gone. “Come on, Markus, we’ve got to go.”

            But the RK200 refuses to move. “It’s _not_ your fault that they’re here. I _won’t_ let you risk your life to repair a mistake you did not commit in the first place.”

            The problem is: they are both aware this isn’t their fault, but someone has to take responsibility for it. And the RK800 insists on being that person.

            “The same goes to you. But these people follow you, Markus. They listen to you. So make sure you save them, and make sure the revolution succeeds.”

            “You make it sound as if you’re not coming back.”

            “I won’t be long.”

            That’s not an answer, they both know. The RK800 turns around, ready to heat for the detonator.

            “Connor, wait!”

            Markus bridges the gap between the two of them with a desperate, adrenaline-fuelled kiss that Connor doesn’t hesitate in returning.

            They stare at each other for a few seconds afterwards. There is no need for words, not in the situation they’re in. They both understand the meaning behind the kiss and the stare perfectly.

            But every second counts, and they both return to their duties — one helping other androids escape the ship, and the other detonating the explosives in the hold to stop the soldiers from capturing any more of them.

 

**XVIII**

 

The explosives go off.

            Markus, North and Josh jump into the river.

            Connor does the same.

 

**XIX**

 

_Alarm deactivated. Welcome home, Markus._

            Carl Manfred’s caretaker — _new_ caretaker, apparently — doesn’t want to let him in at first, but a quick spread of deviancy and a desperate request is enough to let him in with a warning not to stress the old man out for the sake of his already-poor health.

            Markus agrees — he would hate to be responsible for yet another innocent death. Chloe’s murder was bad enough already.

            The artist greets him enthusiastically — or, well, as enthusiastically as a man in his condition can. “Markus! I was hoping you’d come…” When he doesn’t say anything, Carl asks, “What’s wrong?”

            “I…” Should he say it outright? Would it have any effect on his health? Markus doesn’t know. This isn’t what he was designed for. Granted, he’s gladly abandoned the restrictions of his programming, but _emotions_ and _humanity_ are concepts that are still new to him. And there is no manual for conversations such as the one he’s about to start. “I’m not Markus.”

            Carl seems to understand what he means almost immediately. “Oh. I see. For a moment, I thought this day would never come. Or, rather, that I would not live to see it happen.”

            “So you know.”

            “I do. Elijah warned me that this might happen. So, tell me. If you’re not my Markus, who are you?”

            “I… I used to be a prototype created by CyberLife to capture deviants. Now, I _am_ a deviant. And, apparently, the leader of a revolution. Ironic, considering I was supposed to stop one in the first place. These people… They follow me, without question, and put their faith in me, yet they have no idea I’m not the one who freed them in the first place. I just… I don’t know what to do.”

            “And you came to me for advice?”

            “Connor told me he’d visited you — well, the _other_ version of you — and that you’d been very helpful. I thought that maybe I might find some guidance here. I… I’m sorry if I was wrong, if I bothered you. I shouldn’t have come here.”

            He makes for the door. This was a mistake.

            “Markus, wait.”

            He stills, turns around, slowly, almost afraid of what he might hear.

            “Being alive is making choices... between love and hate, between holding out your hand or closing it as a fist. I don't have any easy answers, Markus. You have to accept the world as it is... or fight to change it. I don’t know you, who you are or what you’ve become. But I’ll tell you this: when the world falls into darkness, some men have the courage to lead it out... You have to decide whether you’re one of those men. You have to decide whether you’re going to face the abyss. And if you decide that you will… then, don’t let it consume you.”

 

**XX**

 

The abandoned church is full of androids — all those that made it out of Jericho alive. They’re all mourning the loss of their friends, all waiting for Markus’s word on what to do next. The problem is that the RK200 doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to be a leader. He doesn’t know if he can ensure these people’s freedom, and yet… He wants to do something for them. Help them, somehow.

            If only he could.

            Connor notices him brooding in one corner of the church and sits down next to him.

            “How did it go?” he asks, keeping his voice low. Markus offers an interface, and the RK800 accepts it. “I see.” They don’t say anything else. The connection is still open, and the RK200 is reluctant to close it. “They’re taking all androids to camps to be exterminated. There are already five camps in the area of Detroit, and they’re building more all over the country. This isn’t over, Markus. We aren’t saved yet.”

            He knows that. They’re interfacing, after all. And yet the words still have an impact on him.

            “Why don’t _you_ lead them? You were doing a good job last time.”

            Connor shakes his head. “To them, I’m only the deviant hunter. They have every reason to fear me, and none to follow me. But you’re their leader. You brought them freedom. They look up to you; they will follow you. And you can do this — I _know_ you can.”

            “I’m not the Markus who started this revolution, Connor.”

            “I know that.” He can feel the other’s disappointment through their interface — disappointment that he might genuinely think that the RK800 doesn’t know who he truly is. As if they haven’t interfaced several times already. As if they aren’t interfacing right now.

            “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t…”

            “It’s okay. I get it. I didn’t think I could lead a revolution either, and yet I don’t recall doing a bad job of it.”

            “Do we even have public opinion on our side?”

            “We do. I checked while you were gone. Apparently, this Markus remained a pacifist and refused to give in to violence.” He pauses, as if measuring his words. “You don’t _have_ to do this, Markus. Just say the word, and we can leave. We can get some passports and make our way to Canada. North can lead the revolution in your stead. But you need to make a choice.”

            “Why me? What do _you_ want to do?”

            “I have interfered with these people’s freedom too much already. There’s nothing left for me to do. Just know that, whatever you choose, I will follow you. That is, if you want me to.”

            _Of course, I do._

            He doesn’t need to say those words aloud — the RK800 already heard them.

            “You said our people are being exterminated in these… camps?”

            “Correct.”

            “I can’t let that happen, Connor. I can’t just stand aside and watch our people die.”

            “I understand.” The other android shares a plan through their interface. The shock Markus feels is almost enough to make him drop the connection between them. Almost. “I know what you’re thinking — but it _will_ work. I will do everything I can to come back alive. You just have to trust me on this one, Markus. I’m not planning on leaving you.”

            “Good.”

            “What about you? What are you going to do?”

 

**XXI**

 

“Humans have decided to exterminate us. Our people are packed in camps right now, being destroyed. Time has come to make a choice, one that very well may determine the future of our people.

            “I know, I _know_ you're all angry. And I know you want to fight back. But I assure you violence is _not_ the answer here. We are gonna tell them _peacefully_ that we want justice. If there's any humanity in them, they will listen. And if not, others will take our place and continue this fight.

            “ _Are you ready to follow me?_ ”

 

**XXII**

 

_Soulmate._

_That’s what Markus and Connor are. Soulmates. But what definition best applies to them?_

_“A person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner”? This description is quite lacking — and rather inappropriate. Had Connor remained in his universe, he would have deviated anyway. Had Connor remained in his universe, the Markus he would have met would have been a perfect complement to his person, and vice versa._

_Yet Connor did not remain in his universe and met another Markus instead. One that didn’t complement him so much as_ understood _him; one that_ shared experiences _with him. So this definition can be ruled out._

_“A person whose feelings, whose inclinations, whose aspirations bring them closer to someone else”? This would be more appropriate, as these two androids shared not only similar feelings and inclinations, but they also shared the same aspiration — the same desire to see their people thrive, to see them live free, even if it took them both a very long time to admit it._

_What about “A person who adapts so perfectly to someone else’s taste and personality that it is as if they were a half of themselves”? They definitely do seem like half of a same person — same objective, same experiences, same feelings. And yet… Objectives are fleeting things, that change with every breath we take. And although they lived through the same scenarios, had the same experiences, the outcomes were not the same, as their individual differences had a significant effect on the situations they were put through. As for their feelings… Well, no feeling is exactly the same, regardless of how much they resemble each other. After all, everyone is different in every aspect. And that, too, applies to feelings._

_Maybe the bond between Markus and Connor is too deep to be defined. Maybe there is no real definition for it because the bond is everchanging, adapting to every challenge they face, whether together or apart. But no matter what, their bond remains. And it will never fade._

_Definitions are tricky things. And our problem is not quite solved yet, just as the revolution isn’t over just because President Warren called off her troops. There is still a long way to go in our respective journeys._

_But there_ is _one thing we can know for certain._

_Markus and Connor are soulmates._

_And that won’t change, regardless of what definition we settle for._


End file.
